Tale of a forgotten warrior
by redkiller87
Summary: A forgotten hero slowly dies in the cold forests of Skyrim, but an intervention from the gods bring's him back another adventure. He will battle Dragons and Daedra, but his worst enemy maybe his past.


** Hey guys, Red here with a new story. And instead of it being a Mass Effect story, it will be an Elder Scrolls story. If this story gets 5 reviews at the start of its life, I will update both of my following stories as well. So be sure to leave a review. And before we begin, the first part of this chapter will be a character sheet of the main character.**

_** Name: Orloand**_

_** Race: Nord**_

_** Age: unspecified**_

_** Description: Nord male with black shoulder length hair and a scar that traces down his cheek to his jaw. Has one blue eye and the other is blind and white.**_

_** Background: Orloand Is a Nord warrior born in the mountain country of Orsinium and raised by a family of Orcs there until striking out on his own at the age of 20. After years of adventuring, his skill in blade and armor is unmatchable in almost any province of Tamirel, and his smithing was rivaled by none. He wore a suit of jet black ebony armor, and wielded a two handed blade made of Malachite that shimmers orange with the presence of the enchantment of the blade. His side arm is an Ebony shorts word with golden trims. All other adventures he had leading up to his assistance in the Oblivion Crisis of the 3**__**rd**__** era and after said crisis are a mystery. He disappeared soon after Dagon was banished back to the depths of oblivion.**_

**Now that all of that is taken care of, let's begin**

* * *

Nine figures of supernatural appearance stood above Tamirel, gazing down into the depths of the great forests of Skyrim, searching for the hero who was forgotten to the world for centuries. Every now and again, the supernatural's gazes would turn towards the small flutter of life that was scattered throughout the land. Hours of searching payed off, when they lay eyes on the man that the mortal Empire once called Champion. He was lying in a forest clearing, surrounded by the corpses of Daedra and the High Eleven Thalmor. One being spit in disgust at the Elves.

"Damn Thalmor, got what they deserved if you ask me," another of the beings, a dragon, looked at him with a fierce look on his immortal face,

"Calm yourself Talos, the time of the Thalmor will soon be over," the being spoke in its rumbling voice, his snout turning once again to the body of the hero. A female voice sounded and broke his train of thought.

"Is this wise Akatosh. He may have been a great warrior and devoted follower of ours, but times have changed, nearly all have forgotten him, and the rest believe him dead. How will the world react." The dragon named Akatosh looked at the immortal, his snout forming what could only be interpreted as a smile.

"Dibella my dear, he isn't dead or forgotten. And he will be the fiercest warrior to have fight Alduin, do not fret my friend," the female named Dibella accepted this and looked back down at him, the one named Talos looked at the immortals surrounding him before turning his gaze back to the warrior that was slowly dying in the blood of those he had slayed.

"Then it's decided, he shall be the one to defeat Alduin. So it shall be." The words were spoken, and a flash of light filled the night sky of Munds, and a beam of the light descended on the warrior, enveloping him in the light for a moment. His wounds healed instantly and his breathing returned to normal breaths against the ragged, hollow breathing he had moments ago.

Dim light from the moons of Mundus filled the hero's vision. An obvious improvement from the eternal darkness that engulfed his mind and body. At first he felt confusion as to were he was and why he was surrounded by corpses. Then his memory returned and he jolted upward, inspecting his body for wounds from the skirmish earlier. Finding none gave him a perplexed mind. _**I could have sworn that dremora stabbed me in the gut.**_ Shrugging it off, he piled the bodies on top of each other, causing his muscles scream in the over exertion of carrying the daedric armored creatures. Standing a few feet back and prepping two fire spells in both hands, he released them, causing the body's to erupt into an inferno of heat and charred flesh.

Smiling at his handy work, he set about to surveying his surroundings and finding out where he was. The warrior climbed the tallest tree he could find. After pulling himself up to the first branch and leaping to grab the next, he heard the rustle of leaves, the notching of a bow just in time to see a steel tipped arrow zoom past his head, and imbed itself into the tree's bark. Cursing for not checking for anyone around him, the warrior instinctly reached behind him for his glass blade, but felt nothing but air were it should be. Letting loose another string of curses after spotting it on the ground where he had been lying earlier. But he also saw his assailants, a group of men armored in leather armor and iron studs, with imperial shoulder guards. One wearing a bulkier version of their armor, pointed up at me, and ordered the others about.

His free hand reached for his side weapon, which thankfully was strapped to his belt, and unsheathed it, holding onto the branch he stood beneath and clutched the blade with the other. More arrows whizzed by and caused him to flinch a little when one clanked off his knee guard. Sadly the flinching was all that was needed for him to lose his balance and plummet to the ground below, and force the air out of his lungs. He gasped for breath as the soldiers surrounded him. He felt around for his blade, and his fingertips brush its hilt before one of the soldiers kicks it away.

Realizing the threat, he reaches out to the boot of one of them that got to close, and drug him down to the ground far enough to were, the warrior disarmed him by twisting his sword arm. The man lets out a scream of pain and the warrior grabs the enemies blade and swing it into the others throat, causing blood to squirt out of the wound and bathe the warrior in fresh blood. Stunned by the death of their comrade, the warrior scrambled to his feet and threw the sword at the nearest soldier, which impacted his chest with a thump, and the man fell down dead before he hit the ground. The warrior now holding the familiar ebony blade moved in quick to finish the last two remaining soldiers, slashing ones chest and stabbing the others heart. When the body's fell, he holstered his blade and picked up his other and walked north, to wherever it lead. Stopping only at a plain filled with hot springs and mammoth bones to clean himself and his armor.

* * *

**5 Days Later**

Winterhold. That's what the guardsmen had said the town was called. But really there was no town to look at. It appeared half of it had fallen into the sea and the rest abandoned except for the college and few homes and business. The warrior considers turning back and finding somewhere else to rest, but a growl from his stomach stopped all thoughts of that happening. The warrior stumbled into the inn and up to the bar, barely sitting in the stool correctly and ordered a drink of ale and grilled rabbit haunches. A drunken man approached him at the bar. He was a Breton in black robes who had the stench of alcohol on his breath, but underneath it all, the warrior felt a familiar presence hit him right as the ale was set in front of him and before the man spoke.

My, my, Sanguine, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit," the warrior spoke; his grizzly voice caught the daedric lord of guard. Removing his helmet and drinking his ale, the ebony clad warrior glanced at the immortal in mortal disguise.

"Found me out that quick huh Orloand," the man slurred, chugging a pint of alcohol down his throat in a single sip. "Figures, you always did have a talent at sniffing us Daedra out," Orloand heard his name, but it was unfamiliar. No one had used it in centuries. Regaining his thought process, Orloand smirked and sipped at his mug of ale as Sanguine chugged them down effortlessly.

"What brings you out of your realm Sanguine, thought Akatosh's barrier sealed all you in," the lord smirked as well,

"I heard you were back around Mundus and thought I should try and screw around with you, but seeing as you found me out so quickly, I'll just give you back my staff and call it a day. Besides, I can go sabotage the High King's Widow's bath, maybe cast that spell that disrobes people during a meeting, who known's, the possibilities of debauchery are endless," Orloand opened his mouth to speak, but Sanguine was already gone and his staff leaned on his stool. Orloand called the innkeeper over and paid 10 gold septims for a room. After taking the money, the innkeeper led him to a room to his right.

"Just yell if you need anything," the man said as he exited the room, closing the door behind him. Orloand took his armor and weapons off and laid them on a desk near the door. After doing so, Orloand moved to the straw bed and collapsed onto its surface, falling asleep the moment his head hit the pillow. His mind cleared and a dream entered his mind. He was a child again, running around the streets of Orsinium, some of the inhabitants smiled as he ran by laughing, others spewed curses at him for being loud. Eventually an Orcish child joined him in running around town. Both laughing as annoyed guards tried to grab them. Then the dream switched to an orc, dying in his arms. A great feeling of sadness overwhelmed him, causing him to shoot up out of bed in a sweat. The warrior rubbed his forehead, the nights dream still fresh on his mind. _**I could have saved him, if only I was fast enough.**_

Attempting to brush the feeling of sadness off him, Orloand began rearming himself, and exited the room, into the inn that only held three High Elves in eleven armor and one in robes, along with the innkeeper who cowered behind his bar.

"We know you worship Talos, so you either come quietly, or we kill you were you stan- Who is this," the elf in robes yells, pointing a finger at Orloand, "I told you to clear the inn, and you let this worm stay," he shouts accusingly at his subordinates. The elves in armor approached him with bindings in hand. Seeing that they intended to capture him, he reached around his back and grasps the hilt of the great sword, causing the two to stop there. The lead elf looks at Orloand again, and a snarl envelopes his face, "you dare threaten us you worm. Kill him, I'll deal with this man." He orders the two, but before they get very far, Orloand unsheathes his blade and with one sweep of it, they were incapacitated. The lead elf was unaware, so Orloand put away the great sword and equipped the ebony short sword. And with a quick jab to the elf's spine, he fell to the ground dead. Sheathing the blade, Orloand reached behind the counter and pulled the bar man up.

"Thank you adventurer, I don't know how to repay you," Orloand raises his hand to stop him from continuing,

"There's no need to thank me or reward me. I have plenty of gold and have no other desire than survival. But I could use some information," the innkeeper nodded, a smile present on his face. Orloand sat down on one of the stools and the bar man began cleaning a mug. "Ok first off, why were these elves after you," the man looked up from what he was doing,

"They found out I worship Talos, you know worshipping him is forbidden now right," Orloand shook his head, and the innkeeper frowned. "What rock have you been under? Ever since the great war the Thalmor have been out looking for anyone who worshipped Talos, and thanks to the damned White-Gold Concordant, they can arrest anyone they think does," Orloand has a puzzled look on his face that causes the other man to frown. "Well to make a long story short, elves from Summerset got tired of being under the Empire and gathered allies that went to war with everyone else, and ultimately defeated them. They made a standstill with the White-Gold Concordat that says that the worship of Talos is forbidden." Orloand nodded at this. He left a small pile of gold on the counter and walked out of the warm inn and into the frozen air of Skyrim.

Once outside, he turned right, down what remained of the town and entered a store, were he then bought a map. After doing so, he left town and headed south east, towards a town called Whiterun. From his calculations, he should arrive in a day or two, depending on how the terrain was. And the forgotten adventurer set out once again, into the hostile environment of Skyrim, and off to another adventure.


End file.
